Behind Closed Doors
by shattered petal
Summary: There was a pause. 'Okay. But I get to be Darcy.'


**Title**: Behind Closed Doors  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Humour/Friendship  
><strong>Couple<strong>: Slight Liv/Miles  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+

* * *

><p>Whenever he was alone, Miles would read.<p>

He discovered his loving relationship with books when he was ten, but having a chance to read anything was little. He had only been able to settle down with a book nine years later.

Miles wasn't ashamed of reading. In fact, he was proud he _could_ read considering the childhood he had. However he was quite timid revealing the fact he read sleazy romance novels. Some were full of complete and utter corniness, and he loved it. Others were classics. He preferred the classics more.

There was something beautiful about how a woman – so feminine, girly and cheerful – could fall in love with a man – miserable, dark and withdrawn. He hadn't seen a girly woman before. Maybe from far off, but never personally. So, of course, he was blown away by how pathetic and weak girls could be.

Clearly something went horribly wrong during his General's childhood. In the books he read wealthy women were spoilt, called their old men "daddy" and fell for the poor beggar on the street. Not to mention they wore dresses.

What he liked most was the happy endings. The couple – suddenly in love with each other – would get married and have children. How sweet. Funny how that never happened in reality.

He sighed. It would never happen with him. He was stuck at Briggs, secluded from girly women and frilly dresses. He wondered how many of his men had wives back home who wore pink dresses and giggled and blushed.

Miles was reading _Pride and Prejudice_ for the sixth time this month. It was his favourite novel by far. Everything about it was a fantasy he wouldn't mind living in. The cruel man – who actually turned out to be a gentleman in the end – fell for the cheerful lady. Yes, it was a perfect read.

"_How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like a wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance. . ._"  
>God, the writing was perfection and so beautiful. Miles sunk into his chair and continued to read: "<em>. . . for on those occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her–"<em>

'Miles!'

At once, the Major jumped in fright and quickly hid the novel behind his back. His General had caught him at it again. She didn't know he read, but she knew he liked to slack off every now and again. That was unusual at Briggs – it was well known for its constant work. But Miles had his reasons.

She was frowning at him and he felt his ears burn. He was scared she had spotted him reading. It would be a nightmare if she discovered just _what_ he had been reading. All respect she held for him would be demolished the moment she laid eyes on the book.

Yes, Miles was a single man who wished to be the Prince Charming.

However Olivier hadn't seen the book. She snapped at him for not doing his duty, before ordering him to return to work. Miles nodded and wasted no time in obeying her. In his hurry, he accidentally tripped a little and the book went flying out of his hands and sliding across the room.

No words were said. Both commander and subordinate looked at each other, then darted towards it. Olivier was faster than he, so managed to grab the novel before he did. Miles wanted to scream at her to give it back.

'What is _this_, Major?' She demanded, disgusted. She read the title. Her expression lightened slightly. '. . . _Pride and Prejudice_?'

He swallowed and clenched his fists. Shit. He was done for.

Miles wanted a hole to swallow him up whilst she turned the pages and read where he was up to. Oh Good _Lord_! _And_ she was reading the words he had wrote on the side, analysing the text. What he found strange was she was. . . gripped. Frowning even whilst she read. Didn't she read this sort of stuff?

Finally she looked at him, eyebrows raised. 'Major. I didn't know you read.'

'I – Ma'am, please can I have my book back?'

'I'm surprised you even understand this. Austen's work is very formal.'

'Ma'am–' Miles reached out to grab it from her, but she dodged quickly.

'Ah ah ah.' She wagged her finger at him. 'Don't think you can get away with something like this, Major. Never in my life have I witnessed a _man_ reading such crap!'

Usually Miles wouldn't defend something he was passionate about in front of her, but saying _Pride and Prejudice_ was crap was too much to let pass. 'It is a fantastic novel, ma'am! This is a classic and loved by many. You have seriously missed out if you have not read this.'

'Oh pish posh! What have I "missed out" on?' She rolled her eyes and opened the book at a random page. She snorted. 'Urgh, this woman needs a grip. And this man is a complete wet blanket falling for her. Jesus! He's perfect and she criticises him because he doesn't swoop her up in his arms!'

'That's not–'

'What's more? His brother wants to marry her sister. Incestuous or _what_?'

'Ma'am–'

'Jeez, and this _mother_ is even as bad as mine–' Olivier flicked through the pages, and walked further away from Miles when he tried to take it off her. '. . .' She snorted and looked at him, then at the page. '_In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love_– Oh for heaven's sake!' She continued to read on. 'Huh, poor bastard gets rejected. _But it is of small importance_. Well he's a real gem, isn't he?'

'_I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character_?'

Olivier stared at him.  
>Miles shrugged.<p>

'This book is awful.'

'I beg to differ.'

She snapped the book shut. 'I'll burn it so you won't be distracted again.'

'Please don't,' Miles insisted. 'Ma'am. . . Please don't burn it.'

Olivier made a "tssk" noise, and, again, flicked through the pages. Miles' curiosity grew. Did she find this book addictive or something? After a few agonising minutes, she closed the book and dismissed him.

Miles fled, reluctantly allowing his General to keep the book.

* * *

><p>It was pouring it down in Central. Miles would have joked about how welcoming the weather was to them, but wasn't sure if his General would appreciate that. She looked piss off as it was. The moment they stepped off the train the two were soaked. Miles pulled up the umbrella he had brought with him.<p>

He moved closer to her, so the umbrella could shield her from the rain too.

'Where did you get the umbrella from?'

'Last time I went to your parent's home, I. . . kind of stole it. Actually _you_ did. You gave it to me when we returned to the North, ma'am.'

Olivier frowned a little. 'Oh.'

They didn't speak about it again.

After millions of phone calls, letters and even scoldings (that had no effect whatsoever), Olivier gave in to arrive at her parents' house for another pointless and tedious reunion with other Armstrong relatives. The occasion was to last for three days, but she had no intention for staying that long. Tonight and that was it.

What was the big deal of her having to turn up anyway? She barely ever showed her face at these events.

Without even knocking, Olivier entered the huge mansion, pulled off her wet coat and literally threw it towards the waiting butler. Miles smiled sheepishly, and was close to apologising when he passed the – now wet – butler his coat and stolen umbrella.

Already guests had arrived. Miles found it ironic that she – a relative – was distant and the longest sentence she said to anyone would be "how are you?". Not many had the guts to confront her either. However they were more than happy to crowd around Miles – anyone _but_ a relative. In fact, he shouldn't even be here.

They were eager to know what it was like to work "in that dangerous place called Briggs" and also his thoughts on his feared commander. They were surprised to hear he felt all right about both.

'You need to get used to General Armstrong,' he said. All eyes pried towards the stoic woman, then back at him.

The questions only stopped when she walked over and dragged Miles away from the crowd. At once, everyone dispersed as if she was some sort of strong repellent.

'Someone's having a good time.'

'Well, they were very charming to me, ma'am.'

'I'm sure.'

'And most concerned for my health. I didn't know your family could be so kind, ma'am.'

Olivier's response was the least bit enthusiastic. 'Oh yes, they're amazing.'

'I'd like it if you invited me more, ma'am.'

'Dress up as me then you can go whenever you feel like it.'

'Oh. . .' Weird images popped into his head. Miles hadn't thought about dressing up as a woman. What a strange thing to suggest. She was probably being sarcastic though.

'We've been here for an hour. Let's go.'

Miles felt disappointed to leave so soon, but didn't object. However the two were stopped from escaping when a loud voice boomed from the lounge. She groaned in despair. Miles felt himself being pulled of his feet into a backbreaking hug.

When he was released, the Major gasped for breath. It had been years and he still wasn't accustomed to Alex's embraces.

'I didn't know you'd be here,' he said, more to Miles than his older sister.

'Well you just missed us because we're leaving,' Olivier replied, and proceeded towards the exit. Miles tried to follow, but Alex grabbed him by the wrist.

'I'm sure you don't need to follow my sister wherever she goes,' he said cheerfully, dragging Miles back into the lounge.

Olivier pointed towards the floor before her, gesturing he come here right now. The Major couldn't though and was soon out of sight with the crowds.  
>He, guiltily, forgot about her an hour later. He loved the questions that continued to pour in, and he loved their amazed gasps whenever he answered about something so shocking.<p>

Jeez, these people were entertained easily.

Yes, it was true that every Briggs soldier could kill a bear with their own two hands. And no, Miles wouldn't be able to show them in case the bear attacked _them_. Maybe from far off they could.

Three hours later, Olivier finally appeared and sat down next to him, avoiding the gaze of any relative who sat with the Major. He felt happier she had decided to join him, and was a little amused by how distant she was trying to be.

Some Armstrongs fidgeted slightly, a little disturbed by her presence but Miles continued to speak, reassuring them his General didn't bite for no reason. Olivier threw him a look. He smiled to himself.

'How did you adapt so quickly to the North? I gather it's cold.'

Miles heard Olivier snort and whisper "Wow, genius". Miles wasn't sure how to answer that question. It was true he had adapted very well, but he wasn't sure _how_.

'I guess I just lived with it.'

Droned "oh"s were heard from the crowd.

'So no help at all?'

'No, I–' Olivier cleared her throat, 'Well. . . I suppose I wouldn't have been completely capable if it weren't for my commander.'

'Miles, can you tell us what–'

'Look at the time. Past midnight already. Times flies when you have _fun_.' The sarcasm made him cringe. Miles smiled towards the guests and knew his General wanted them to leave.

'I must depart. Thank you for your company.'

Before anyone could say he was welcome, Olivier dragged him away to the front door. The butler – now dry – appeared before them. 'Your father wishes you stay here for the night. The weather is dangerous and there won't be any trains running at this time.'

'We can go to a hotel,' Olivier muttered.

'He _insists_, madame.'

She glared at him, before scoffing and escorting Miles up the long staircase. He almost tripped by how fast she was walking. Loads of rooms passed him and she reached one that was close enough to hers.

'You can stay here. Be up at 0500 hours.'

'Yes ma'am.'

Olivier turned to leave, but something fell from beneath her military jacket. Miles widened his eyes when he saw what it was.

'My book!' he exclaimed.

She snatched it before he. 'I must have. . . left it under my jacket.'

'You've been reading it.'

Olivier glared. 'I have not. I wouldn't waste my time reading about a stupid bunch of girls.'

'Then why do you have it?'

'Because I do, Major. Now mind your own business and go to bed.'

Miles obeyed but didn't change his clothes. He waited several minutes, until deciding he would insist to have his book returned to him. Miles knocked on her door and waited for an answer.  
>There wasn't one.<p>

'Ma'am, I would like my book back please.'

The door opened. 'It's a _book_.'

'And it is my favourite.'

'It's a load of bullshit.'

'How can you judge a book if you haven't read it?'

'I _have_ read it – No, I haven't! I can tell it's a pathetic book by the cover.'

Miles smiled a little. 'You've read it have you, ma'am?'

'No.'

'I thought you had.'

'I haven't read it, Major. Now leave, otherwise I'll make you regret disturbing me.' She slammed the door in his face.

He waited for an hour, hearing the sound of Armstrongs downstairs chattering and leaving the mansion for home. When he heard the shower turning on behind Olivier's door, the Major sneaked in and tiptoed towards his book which lay over her bed.

Miles heard the gun _click_ behind his head.

'Put it down.'

He slowly obeyed.

'Get out of my room.'

No. He would not stand for this!  
>Miles grabbed the book, turned to her and pressed it to his chest. 'If you like the book so much, ma'am, then go buy your own!'<p>

'I do not have the time.'

'You have the money though!'

Shit. Miles stumbled and prepared his brain to be blown into bits. However Olivier didn't shoot. She watched him for a few seconds, before lowering the weapon.

'It's crap anyway.'

'Let's put that to the test then,' Miles said. 'We'll read it together, and then you can tell me if it is truly bad writing and has a terrible plot.'

'I'll just be wasting my breath.'

'Wouldn't you like to prove yourself right, ma'am?'

There was a pause. 'Okay. But I get to be Darcy.'

'. . . Why do I have to be the woman?'

'Because you're the most feminine out of us both.'

* * *

><p>Miles had been able to fit into one of her sister's dresses (from when she was younger), and his acting was impressive. Olivier wasn't sure if she should be disturbed or amazed by how talented he was at acting like a woman. Maybe both.<p>

Her father's suit was a little big, but she was still able to walk around in it and it was surprisingly comfortable. She held the book because Miles (strangely) knew the text at the top of his head.

'_Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest (_Oh my days) _Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous_ - Wow, this _is_ inappropriate.'

'Just read it, ma'am.'

'Bla bla bla - _You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased_.'

'_Had you then persuaded yourself that I should_?'

Olivier placed a hand to her heart and dramatically said: '_Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses._'

Miles felt his brain commit suicide from observing his General like this. He burst out laughing and she pouted, folding her arms.

'I'm trying.'

'No, it's really good. Anyway – _My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally-' _Miles stepped closer to her, '–_I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening_?'

She widened her eyes. 'What on earth happened that evening?'

'They–'

'Bored already. _Hate you! I fucking despise you_!'

'Ma'am, that's not in the text!'

'I know. It just sounded better in my head. _I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction_.'

'_I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?_'

'_No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise_. . . That's quite disgusting.'

Miles sighed. 'Why do you always have to read things with dirty thoughts?'

She shrugged. 'Only reading between the lines, Major.'

He took the book from her and scanned past a few lines, before pointing towards where she can start again. 'There.'

Sighing reluctantly, Olivier read on, exaggerating her words: '_I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection_.'

Miles beamed for no reason. '_And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him_.'

'_It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest_ – Urgh!' She threw the book away. 'That stuff was agonising!'

'You made a good Mr Darcy,' Miles said, finally having the book to himself.

She turned to him. 'Well your bitch was hard to take seriously.'

'I think she has common sense. She's not running into his arms like you'd expect.'

'No, but she will do. It's pretty damn obvious they're going to fuck each other sooner or later.'

'Ma'am, not everything ends up badly.'

'_This_ will. Just because the author ended the book with them marrying, doesn't mean it will always be a happy ever after.'

He slumped his shoulders. 'You don't have to ruin the romance.'

'It's all unrealistic anyway. What kind of person would fall for a cold, withdrawn asshole?' It took her a moment to realise the resemblance. '. . . Oh.'

Miles smiled slightly. That love was not unrealistic. He knew that for a fact.

'You've got great legs, Miles.'

He snorted. 'Didn't know you were a thigh lady.'

'I was kidding,' she muttered.

'What features do you search for in a man?' Miles asked, sitting next to her on the bed. She frowned at him.

'I don't. I've got better things to be interested in.'

He doubted that. 'The face? Eyes? Lips? Build?' No response. 'Backside?' She twitched a little. Miles wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching her so closely. He beamed. 'You like backsides, ma'am?'

'What an outrageous thought!'

'I would never have guessed you liked the shape of someone's bum.'

Olivier snarled and snatched the book from him. 'Mention about it again, I'll destroy this book page by page.'

'Okay, okay, I'll keep quiet,' Miles said. She threw the book back at him.

'So what do you search for in a woman then?'

'It's the face.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Right.'

'I don't like narrow faces. I find them to be a bit aggressive, but that's just me.'

'I'm sure that it is just you, Major.'

'I dunno – I guess it's nice to see a woman with chubby cheeks.' Their eyes met. He dared himself to smirk at her. It couldn't be more obvious who he was referring to.

'I do _not_ have chubby cheeks!'

'You do sort of.'

'No I don't!'

He laughed by how childish she was sounding. 'I'm offering you a compliment, ma'am.'

'Well I'm far from flattered,' Olivier replied. 'Unfortunately for you, you do not have a perfect shaped arse.'

'. . . I heard you had a thing for facial hair.'

She pulled a face. 'Which moron told you that?'

'Alex; he read a diary of yours when you were about fourteen.'

'Yes, _fourteen_, Major. I was much younger than I am now. And that balding man is going to pay for reading my diary. How dare he?'

'You _did_ leave it on your bedside cabinet.'

'So?'

'You wouldn't have done the same thing, ma'am?'

'No.'

'Really?'

'No. Stop contradicting me.'

'I'm not, ma'am. But you did start reading my book when I clearly didn't want you to.'

Olivier leaned closer to him. 'Well if it upsets you so much, Major, then I sincerely apologise.'

'Apology accepted.'

'Get out of my room.'

He stood and walked to the door, deliberately jutting out his backside to make fun of her. Olivier dashed over and slapped his arse as hard as possible.

'Ow!' Miles exclaimed, jumping up.

'Mm. Firm,' she smirked.

He swivelled around and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. 'Yep – they're chubby all right.'

Before she could register what he had done, Miles left the room in seconds, the book close to his chest. It was going to be awkward in the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>author's note<strong>: I have used some of the text in _Pride and Prejudice_ so, of course, hold no credit for that (or for a lot of this one-shot). Thanks for reading!


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